


Work to be Done

by miss_nettles_wife



Category: The Doctor Blake Mysteries
Genre: Beating, Character Death, Drabble, Fish, Grief, M/M, oc (fish), unsafe fish care, vaugeness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 15:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11420424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_nettles_wife/pseuds/miss_nettles_wife
Summary: Matthew Lawson wants to be a fish





	Work to be Done

**Author's Note:**

> remember Matthew the Fish. A good fandom meme.

Matthew swam in circles, backward  and forward. He’s gold in colour, and shimmery under the water. It reminds Matthew of the foundation a girl he used to date would wear. The puff stained the peach tone of her skin, the slightly chemical smell masked with perfume. The stains it left in his bedroom.

He doesn’t seem to care about anything. Why would he? He’s just a fish, to him, why would anything outside of his little world matter? Matthew wishes he could be so apathetic. That things could bounce off his skin. That he could forget so easily.

He sat back in his chair, and allowed himself a little indulgence.

The show.

The air smells like farm animals and sugar and deep fried foods.

The ground is cracked, solidly packed dirt. Dried mud. It floods through here in the winter.

It’s hot,  just coming into summer. His shirt is slightly damp with sweat. His leg is sore from walking so much.

But he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Charlie is walking next to him, he is so pale that he will burn if they stay out much longer. His shirt buttons up at the collar and his pants are tan coloured. He’s holding on to several sample bags. Jams in tiny plastic pots for his mother, chocolates for his brothers. For himself, a bag that included dried fruits.

He’s happy. Above all else, he’s happy. He’s been looking forward to the show for months, Matthew can’t explain why anyone would look forward to it but it seemed to bring out the inner child in him.

They pass the game stalls. Rigged shooting games using pellet guns. Weighted bottles to throw bags at. Rubber ducks bobbing in big buckets with numbers on the bottom. Throw the sack into the bucket. The usual fair games. There were things to win. Bears the size of sideboards, chocolates, poorly made dolls.

Charlie is looking at something and it doesn’t take him long to see it  as well. Goldfish, perfect goldfish in little bowls sitting in rows at a shooting game.   
“Aren’t they cute?”  He asks, his voice sounds sticky sweet to Matthew’s ears.   
“They’re fish.” Charlie seems taken but it about to move on. Matthew makes a split second choice and gives two pence to the man running the stall. Matthew takes the gun and looks through the crosshairs. They’re misaligned

Doesn’t matter.

He hits all the targets one by one.

He selects a fish  as his prize and gives to Charlie as they walk away. He was very taken by the creature, giving it (and Matthew) one of those big smiles that makes his eyes crease at the sides.   
“His name is Matthew II.”  He declares.   
“Really?”  
“Of course I’m naming him after the greatest man I know.” He laughed. Matthew laughed too. They spend so much time worrying about how people see them. For just that moment, it doesn’t matter.

He opened his eyes.

He’s in his house.

The air is musty – he hasn’t opened the windows.

Matthew doesn’t seem affected, still swimming along happily. 

“Do you remember him?” He asked the fish as though it would answer. It doesn’t. He read somewhere once that fish only remember things for three seconds.

How wonderful.

Matthew would love to forget things after three seconds. To never think about the war. About his mistakes. About Charlie.

That’s a lie, though. He doesn’t want to forget Charlie.

Unbidden, his mind plays a slideshow of him beaten senseless and lying still on the morgue table. Doctor Harvey with a hand on her mouth. Lucien watery eyed. His knees giving out underneath him. The sound of no repeated under his breath.

He tries to replace the memory with something happy. Charlie winning him a giant stuffed bear at the show. The soft sound of him breathing in bed next to him.  A gentle foot nudging him under the table. Charlie rubbing his leg in an attempt to offer comfort.

It only kind of works.

He’s still working out a coping mechanism.

Matthew would give anything for three more seconds with Charlie. To hold his hand. To tell him exactly how much he was loved. Three seconds is not long.

The last time he’d seen Charlie prior to him being well, beaten to death, was that morning. He wishes he’d held him tighter, tighter than that tighter still. Pulled him inside his skin. Held him there where he was safe. Wishes that he’d kissed him harder.

Wishes that he was the one on that patrol. Charlie should still be here. Charlie should still be here.

The air tastes like salt. He looked at the fish. The fish does not look back.

He doesn’t know that he believes in God, but for Charlie’s sake he hopes there is. So he can go to the Pearly Gates and live a life in comfort. More selfishly, so he can see him again some day. Tell him in person how much Matthew loved him. That he’s taking care of the stupid fish. Touch his face.

He sat up and looked at the time. He has to go. He’s delivering testimony about Charlie to the court. He moved the fish into the shade so it wouldn’t overheat and pulled his jacket on. There is work yet to be done.


End file.
